No. 7: Designing a Life

Lessons from tech, momentum, pauses, and the art of presence

Apr 01, 2025

A Meditation on Inadequacy

Years later, I was staring at the blue light of yet another interface and I remembered how I once longed to work in tech. That desire arrived gently, like a tropical storm, slowly gathering over Miami.

I entered tech the year I turned thirty-one.

Too old. Too female. Too pregnant. Those were the judgments of data, of averages, and projections from an industry defined by youth and maleness.

The data wasn’t personal. But it still excluded me.

There’s something about arriving late to the conversation. You notice things. You see the room differently. You’ve lived other lives.

I made my way in, despite the data.

The Metrics of Success

For over twelve years, I designed products and experiences. I led teams and I shipped tools that reached millions. I helped companies grow and thrive.

In the beginning, it was about staying curious. Keep learning. Build well.

I had mentors and people who recognized talent even when it came in an unexpected package. Their belief helped me believe in myself.

Then came the other voices from managers who’d say, “You’re so talented,” and follow it with, “But you speak out of place in meetings.”

So I became two people. One who created with clarity and another who questioned everything she said.

I internalized the doctrine of acceleration: More output. More meetings. More velocity.

But clarity came with rest.

On Stillness and the Rituals of Presence

Tech speaks the language of momentum and velocity. When I pause long enough, I notice what is missing.

Small ceremonies return me to myself.

In the mornings, I drink coffee slowly.
I focus on the heat and the taste.
It matters.

I walk, not for fitness, but to think.
To let my mind wander. To remember I have a body.

I practice Pilates. Slow, controlled movements that rebuild trust in my body and in myself.

This is where I return to when I’m lost.
This is where I find clarity: in presence.

What Remains After Labels

This week, James Victore asked in an email:
What happens when we release all the labels we’ve given ourselves—and get down to the heart of our expression?

I think about that often.

Who am I outside of “designer”?
When all the words I stack up to make myself feel safe and important disappear What’s left?

Only what’s always been there: My way of seeing.

For a long time, I thought I was lost in the space between knowing what I wanted and finding the way there.

Now I know that space is an unfolding. I trust the unfolding. It has worked before. It will work again.

The capacity to pause. The willingness to exist in uncertainty.

It is possible to proceed. Not necessarily forward, as the doctrine of momentum would insist, but inward toward the self that persists when all labels are peeled away and all credentials revoked.

Uncertainty as home.

Until next time.

Love, Eva